


count me down, the future's here

by stranglerfig



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, Found Family, Friendship, Hope and joy and all those sappy things we need, Trans Allison Reynolds, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranglerfig/pseuds/stranglerfig
Summary: Somehow, and against all odds, everything goes right for Allison fucking Reynolds.
Relationships: Allison Reynolds & David Wymack, Allison Reynolds & Neil Josten, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Allison Reynolds/Seth Gordon (past), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	count me down, the future's here

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: homophobic language (heckling during a game; no slurs)
> 
> Hope you all love reading this as much as I loved writing it : ) It almost perished twice before completion-once when I lost inspiration, and once when I lost the first draft. But third time's the charm, and I /knew/ I had to bring Trans!Allison/Renee into the world because the world needs and deserves it.

Dan and Renee’s voices burbled across the locker room like her white noise app on bad nights. Meaningless and staticky. Allison knew it was their own way of coping—obscuring their melancholy and hyping the freshman. She should join in, wash the sour emotions from her throat.

She couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Which one didn’t matter. Her mind was occupied by a ghost.

Seth fucking Gordon. A bigot, a jackass, and a piece of shit.

Allison had loved him so goddam much.

He’d promised he’d be here, cheering her on in the stands. Instead, he was haunting her.

She ran her fingers over her jersey number, picked at the flaking white edge with a bright pink fingernail. Once, in the aftermath, she’d thought of asking Wymack to take his number. But then she’d heard him in her ear, _aw, babe, do you miss me?_ and it had made her so angry she had never considered it again. As a result, the only piece of him with her today was his shadow.

Someone sat on the bench next to her in a waft of hyacinth. Renee’s small, strong hand rested on Allison’s thigh and squeezed in one of those girl-friends moves that still managed to throw her off. 

“He’s still with you, you know.” Allison looked up into the horizon of Renee’s sad smile. It was sweet and melancholy, with an edge. Allison never missed Renee’s edge. “Even when you wish he wasn’t.” She blinked her soft, lovely eyes.

Renee might have everyone else fooled—except maybe the monster and the selectively perceptive Neil—but Allison knew she was still a bastard deep down.

“Going to change out?” Renee asked. “Dan’s about to explode.”

Allison sighed and stood, picking up her gear bag. Renee stood too, putting a hand on her elbow. “Hey. You know I’ve got your back. You know you don’t have to—” She flicked her eyes towards the showers.

Allison dredged up a smile from the sea of her melancholy. “I know. Thanks.” She walked towards the showers anyway, felt Dan’s friendly touch to her shoulder, the wash of white noise twice as loud.

Seth fucking Gordon.

The first time she’d ever walked into the team lounge, in kitten heels and a skintight dress, makeup fresh off a YouTube tutorial, he’d whistled. Dan had given him a disgusted look, but Allison had been filled with such a rush—because his eyes were hooded and the whistle hadn’t been sarcastic, it had been douchy but _sincere._

He’d chatted her up after their meeting, one arm against the wall, and said he was _so into everything she had going on, beautiful._

She’d asked what he meant, guard up like the Great Wall of fucking China. He’d given this little crooked grin that shouldn’t have been so dashing. _That dress, babe. Damn._

Dan and Matt looked askance at her for the rest of the year, but after that they were inseparable. On or off, it didn’t matter; they were always on each others’ minds.

Angry, helpless reminiscing carried her halfway through changing out, and she had to do the rest conscious, shame compounding her fury. Every time, she promised herself it would be the last. Next time, she’d change with the others. But it was a holdover from the before-times, and trying to push herself out of it brought on anxiety attacks that manifested in raging bitchiness. If it had eyes and could see her body, she would claw them out first.

She’d gone for Seth’s eyes so many times. He had always cradled her hands and kissed her through the frenzy.

She pulled on her socks, ran her hands over her smooth legs, feeling the curve of them, remembering how Seth had liked to do just that—she wouldn’t cry here, she wouldn’t. Allison Reynolds didn’t cry over dead sons of bitches.

But for all the shit he gave others, shit she never really called him out for, too bizarrely grateful to be excluded form it, Seth fucking Gordon was the first person to absolutely and unquestioningly validate everything about her.

_It’s just different_ , he’d grunted, when she’d asked him about it in her most poisonous, make-one-wrong-move-and-I’ll-kill-you voice. He saw through it in a second. _You’re a woman._

Yeah, she’d loved him.

She jerked her jersey down and pressed her forehead to the wall. Next time. Next time. She was Allison fucking Reynolds. She belonged here. In this world. On this team. In this fucking locker room.

Outside, Dan climbed onto a bench, about to give the girls their own pre-game pep talk before the one she’d give the whole team. It was a necessity: throwing themselves into the misogynistic shitshow that was exy required bone-deep, raging-bitch, eye-clawing solidarity.

She slid onto the bench next to Renee, who leant against her shoulder silently.

Senior year. Their first, last game.

_Seth fucking Gordon, this is for you._

****

_One-two-three-four-five-six—_ Allison hurled the ball to Neil, neatly side-stepping her mark. Neil snatched it from the air and ran—but he was too far from the Catamount goal and Dan was on the other side of the field and so that left—

She sprinted, two steps ahead of her mark, and Neil hurled the ball off the side of the court as she’d known he would. She caught the rebound— _one-two-three-four-five-six-seven—_ and threw to Dan, who passed to Neil, who shot and—yes, _scored_ —

They reset, her mark spitting something nasty that she didn’t comprehend over the blood rushing through her body, the buzz of the game in her blood, the breath heaving quick and heavy through her.

Allison Reynolds loved exy enough to give up everything for it.

It was the Catamount’s serve, their dealer launching the ball rapidly downfield, strikers converging around Renee in goal. One took a shot but Renee snapped it back up the field—Allison felt it land in her net before it actually did, and she checked her mark out of the way as she twisted towards Dan and threw—

A Catamount swiped it, and the game turned again toward the Foxes’ goal. Her mark was going to shake her and score. Seth’s old adage floated somewhere in her mind: _A yellow card is a piece of trash, but a goal is a humiliation_. She slammed into her mark hard enough to bruise.

She was carded, and they reset for a penalty. Dan clacked racquets with her on the way past.

Under her helmet, Allison grinned like she never did off the court. No one really knew how much she loved exy. No one knew how she felt on the court, like a goddess, like more than the sum of her parts. No one but Seth.

Renee blocked the penalty and passed to her again, and it was _one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine_ —and threw to Matt, the countdown of her steps always running in the back of her mind, so intrinsic she dreamed it more often that not.

Never in her life did she feel like she felt playing exy. It was the first time, the only time, that she felt correctly embodied. When she felt euphoria. _These are my arms. These are my legs. See how they move me, twist me, throw me, run, shove, pass, catch—_

Matt passed to Neil whose shot was rebounded; Dan seized the ball and snapped it back towards defense—Allison flew past her mark and snatched it—

_One-two-three-four-five—_

****

“Last season,” said Matt, with a grimace trying to be a smile. Dan, tucked into the bean bag beside him, frowned and dropped her head to his shoulder.

“Last season,” echoed Renee softly, flicking her soda tab.

Allison didn’t say anything, just drew her legs up underneath her and inspected her nails, one of which had been chipped during the game. She wouldn’t mention it. She shouldn’t be upset about it, it was silly and trivial. But it had been a perfect turquoise oval before, shiny and smooth, and now it wasn’t.

Renee sighed and stretched out her legs. Her heels pushed into Allison’s hipbone, toes wiggling into her side. Allison very much wanted to hold them, run her chipped nail along the arch of her foot. She resisted.

The underclassmen would be here soon, but the seniors had decided on a post-game senior party before the general revelry started. Allison wasn’t sure why, anymore. It had seemed like a good idea, but it had turned into silent misery.

“Allison?” Dan asked. “Plans?”

“Plans?” Allison echoed.

“After graduation?”  
  
Allison did not, she _did not_ shrink into the couch cushions. She very much would have liked to, though. _After graduation?_ the memory of Seth said. _You mean you made it that far without me?_ “No,” she said. Renee’s foot wriggled into her side in a comforting way. “Not yet.”

Plans were laughable. What was graduation but an ending, final and damning, of everything she’d built herself on? Of her friends, of her team, of _exy_. She could hardly stand to think about it.

“I’m thinking of joining the Peace Corps,” Renee said, prodding her toes under Allison’s thigh. Attention shifted to her, including Allison’s, with heartbeat-hiccup of surprise.

“The Peace Corps?” Matt asked, sitting forward with an annoyed huff from Dan. “Isn’t that for, like, years?”  
  
“Yes,” Renee said, rolling her soda can between her palms.

“Why?” Allison asked, hoping it didn’t sound too pathetic.

Renee shrugged, biting her lip. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have a goal. I just want to—to do something I _know_ is _good_ for the world. If nothing else, I know that.”

It was really hard to remember Renee was a bastard when she said things like that.

“That’s great,” Dan said. Silence fell. No one needed to ask Dan and Matt for their plans—Matt had already signed to a pro team and Dan had full funding for an MA program in the same city.

“Neil’s really coming along,” Matt said, pressing a kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “You’ve done great with him.”  
  
“Thanks, babe,” Dan said. To Allison’s alarm, her eyes started to water. “I’m going to miss you all _so much_.”

That was all it took to set Matt off, and that set Renee off, and Allison, try as she might, felt herself begin to tear up. _Goddammit._ Even after all this time, she disliked how easily she cried. It made her feel helpless.

Renee’s toes wriggled under her butt, and she jumped, startled. Renee gave her a teary, mischievous grin, and Allison’s anger began to dissipate. “Hey,” Renee murmured. “Want me to redo your nails later?”

Yeah, Renee was a bastard, all right.

****

The film garbled white noise not unlike the team before the game, except this time Allison wasn’t engaged in dialogue with her memories. She was firmly in the present, anchored by the unrepenting weight of Renee asleep in her lap.

This was another of those girl-friend touches she still hesitated to initiate. Although perhaps her trepidation was related to the fact that, unlike most other girls who would have cause to casually lay their head in Allison’s lap, she would be quite happy were Renee _not_ asleep when she did it.

Matt and Dan curled together in their beanbag, legs spilling everywhere. Allison tried not to let the look of them make her melancholy, but she’d found the ring in Matt’s drawer a week ago and all she had been able to think about was how Seth had admitted to her, once, in the dead of night, that he was so scared of turning into a husband like his father.

And there were Neil and the monster, on the other couch, both awake though Neil’s eyelids were drooping, and their shoulders were pressed together and the monster didn’t even look uncomfortable about it. Allison watched as Andrew traced a thumb over the hills of Neil’s knuckles, voluntarily, the most saccharine display of affection Allison had ever watched him engage in.

Aaron and Katelyn were on the floor, both dead asleep, Katelyn atop Aaron’s chest, his arms around her waist. Nicky alone in a butterfly chair, knees pulled up and a half-smile on his face as he texted. Erik, no doubt.

Everyone had someone. Everyone except Allison fucking Reynolds, who had a ghost and a girl in her lap who was only there to sleep.

Would Renee be angry, she wondered, if Allison were to run her newly-painted nails through her pastel hair in her sleep?

Holding her breath, she did it anyway. It was a friends thing. A girl-friends thing, which Allison was getting better at every day. Renee's had unbearably soft lilac streaks in her hair. 

Staring down at Renee’s sleeping face, she pictured Renee leaving for destinations far-flung, ready to save the world as far from Allison as possible. Helpless sorrow settled in her heart, and it felt a lot like crying, though her eyes were dry.

There Renee would go, with her hands and her eyes and her lilac hair, and here Allison would stay, without Seth and without Renee and without exy.

_Fuck you, Seth Gordon,_ she thought viciously. _You’ve left me all alone._

****

“Look at that,” Allison said, watching Neil race down the court like a bat out of hell. “Disgusting.” But she said it with a smile curling in the corner of her lip.

“They will be alright,” Renee said, sighing as she folded into a toe-touch. Allison kept her eyes on Neil. “Without us, I mean. Hard to believe.”

“It was hard to believe _we’d_ be alright,” Allison said, gently stretching her wrist and frowning at the slight soreness she felt. At least her nails looked good. Cerulean. “Seth always said—” She bit the words off.

Renee looked up, her narrow eyes narrowing further. “You do not have to censor yourself around me, Allison.”

Allison flushed, and played it off by inspecting a nonexistent crack in her pinky nail. “I talk about him too much. I know everyone’s sick of it. Everyone hated him."

Renee was silent for a long moment. When Allison looked back, she was frowning at her cleats. “I know…” she trailed off, glancing up just in time to see Dan make an incredible pass to Aaron. She sighed. “Allison, I know what it is like to be haunted.” Her eyes were cold fronts. Allison felt a shiver run through her chest. “My past life, she walks alongside me everywhere I go. And I never know whether to hold her hand or not.”

Fuck girl-friend touches. Allison reached out and took Renee’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Renee gave her a hard half-smile. “So yes, Seth was a bastard. I am a bastard too, Allison. And it does not do either of us any good to keep it all inside.”

“Alright, Betsy,” Allison said, returning her half-smile.

“Betsy knows what she’s talking about,” Renee said. “So—what did Seth always say? Tell me.”

Allison looked down at Renee’s hand in hers, wishing so badly she could rub her thumb over her palm to feel her exy calluses. She didn’t push her luck. “He always said putting all of us on this team was like releasing moths around a bonfire. Sooner or later, we were always going to fly in.”

“It seemed like it,” Renee agreed. “It still seems like it, sometimes. Less and less.”

“Yeah.” Allison realized, abruptly and cataclysmically, that no matter how many games they played this year, upon graduation she would never play exy competitively again. In the face of that thought, what were flames but an escape?

_No._ She shook her head, clearing the thoughts away. Renee giggled and tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear. Seth may have died burning, but she wouldn’t.

****

“Alright, alright,” Wymack said, striding into the team lounge, looking around at them all in their self-assigned seats. It was odd, Allison supposed, but also maybe it wasn’t. Collectively they all harbored so much trauma and chaos that a measure of stability like sitting in the same place probably did wonders for their sense of balance. Or maybe that was Betsy speaking.

“Winter formal,” Wymack said, passing out slips of paper. “Save the date. No shit like the last few years, understand?”

“Drama, coach, on our team?” drawled Nicky. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean exactly that. Now scat, brats.”

Allison rose slowly, interest kindling in her stomach. The winter formal always promised excitement of one kind or another. Firstly, there was the chance to dress up. That thrill would never lesson. Secondly, there was almost always some sort of drama, and Allison fed on drama like a hummingbird on nectar. 

“Reynolds,” Wymack grunted, as everyone filed out. “Hang back?”

Renee gave her a side-squeeze and left with Dan and Matt, and Allison was left with her coach stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Reynolds,” he said again.

“Wymack,” she said, mimicking his tone.

He grinned. “Question for you Reynolds, and then you’re released.”

She shifted on her heels, adjusting her bag strap. “Yes?”

“We’ve never talked about it before. That's on me. Would you ever consider going pro? ”

The words settled in her stomach like curdled yogurt, churning up a storm of ugly thoughts. She felt her protective shield of bitch coming up, in the way she straightened and ran a hand through her hair, but she wrestled it down before it could reach her mouth. This was coach. He deserved better from her. “Of course,” she said, instead of the vitriol she wanted to spew. “But I know I’m not good enough.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

She pressed her lips together, feeling her face heat up. “Yeah, coach, I’m not good enough, and no team wants the shit that all _this_ would bring down on them.” She gestured with her free hand to her body in general.

“My team did,” Wymack said neutrally. Allison rolled her eyes. “Alright, Reynolds, I take your point. Off with you.”

She took one step towards the door, and was filed with premature mourning at the thought of leaving the Foxes, leaving him. She’d never tell him, but he was a father to her. By the way his mouth suddenly twisted, he was feeling the same.

“Goddam it,” Wymack grunted, clearing his throat. “Abby calls this empty den syndrome.”

“I’ll miss you too, Coach,” Allison said, with a catty air and a wave of her hand to disguise the fact that she didn’t know what she’d do without him on her side.

He waved, strode back towards his office, and she went to catch up to Renee.

_Another dress?_ drawled the memory of Seth. _Babe, you could go to the formal in a bathrobe and still look better than anyone else there._

A good memory, for once. But memory-Seth was wrong. A new dress was _always_ necessary.

Neil, though, was looking shirty, glancing around at the mall like he’d never been in one before, which she knew was untrue, because he’d gone with her and Dan before.

“Come on,” Allison said, taking his elbow and dragging him towards the escalator. “We need a dress for me, possibly shoes to match, _probably_ shoes to match, and a new suit for you, and have you ever considered crop tops?”

Neil stepped onto the escalator like a dying man. “I have a suit.”

“ _A_ suit. I’m paying, so go wild.”

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” Neil murmured, as she led him past the pretzel stand and into a store full to bursting with dresses worth more than laptops.

“You’re here,” Allison said, gazing around for the exact shade of lilac she wanted, “because you’re a scary motherfucker with a reputation, and if anyone tries to start shit in the dressing room, you’ll have my back.” And she marched him towards a color-coded wall.

“Um,” Neil said, as she began piling dresses into his arms. “Sorry, but…why would anyone cause trouble in a dressing room?”

She frowned, glanced at him. “Don’t be a jackass, Neil.” But his blue eyes were wide with confusion. “Oh, my god,” Allison said. “Honey, I’m trans?”

He blinked at her. “You are?”

“Oh, my god,” Allison said again, elation filling her from toes to ears. “Oh, my god, you glorious creature. I adore you.” She ruffled his hair, feeling a grin grow uncontrollably across her face. “Neil, you perfect thing.”

“I feel stupid,” he said, mouth twisting.

“You are the opposite of stupid,” Allison assured him. “You are brilliant. You are my favorite fox.”

He looked awkwardly pleased at that, and maybe Allison could see what Andrew saw in him. Well, _that_ had never been the problem. It was more like watch the monster saw in Neil that eluded her. But who was she to judge? She had a bastard of a ghost haunting her.

“Alright,” Allison said, turning back to the rack. “To work.”

Neil gave a muted groan of despair.

****

“What about this one?” Allison put a hand on her hip and did a slow circle. Neil eyed it with the discernment of a man who’d been doing this for two hours.

“I like it,” he said finally, “but option six is still my favorite. This one’s collar is too wide.”

“You’re right,” she said, looking critically in the mirror. “Okay. Only four more.”

“Why lilac?” he asked, looking around at the purple dresses surrounding them.

“Hm?” Allison felt herself blushing, and hoped to god he didn’t see.

“Why lilac?” he repeated. “Are you blushing?”

“It’s silly,” she said.

“Okay.”

That was it. Okay. If she didn’t want to tell him, he wouldn’t press. Neil was a good friend. “Renee’s hair,” she snapped out, looking away from him. “Alright?”

He blinked slowly. “You want to match Renee’s hair?”

“No.” She sat down in frustration, running a hand over the dress. “It’s just on my mind.”

“You like her,” Neil said slowly, like the dawning of an epiphany. He stared at her in astonishment.

“Is it so absurd?” she asked.

“No,” Neil said slowly. “I guess not. You have a type.” He wrinkled his nose.

Allison smirked. Neil didn’t care for Renee, she knew. He hadn’t cared for Seth either.

“You’d be good together,” he said suddenly, eyes keen. “Are you going to ask her to the formal?”

“What?” Allison squawked. “Of course not.”

He tilted his head. “But…you’re matching your dress to her hair.”

She waved a hand. “So?”

“So? Why not ask her?”

“Because—because—” she floundered. “She’s my best friend.” He stared at her, uncomprehending. God, he was so fucked up. Somehow, it made her feel better about everything. “She’s—I don’t want to ruin things. If she says no. If she’s—if she’s grossed out.”

“Would she be?” Neil asked. “Grossed out?”

Renee, Allison realized suddenly, would not be grossed out. Renee fell asleep on her lap. Renee painted her nails. Renee had never once, in four years, invalidated anything about Allison.

“Would she?”

“No,” Allison admitted. “But things would still change.”

“Things change anyway,” Neil said.

“Stop being wise,” Allison snapped. “Go back to being oblivious.”

“Can’t I be both?”

Allison stood up. “Alright, dress six it is. Time to get you a suit. And a crop top.” 

“Hey.” Allison dropped her bag down and sat beside Renee, who kept her face tilted towards the sun.

“Hello, Allison,” Renee murmured, eyes closed. The noise of the quad filtered around them. Renee’s shoes were off, bare feet drawn up below her skirt, hands folded in front of her.

“Are you praying?” Allison asked. It wasn’t unheard of for Renee to find pockets of spirituality out in the busy world.

“No,” Renee said softly. “Just trying to make sure I don’t forget this.” She opened her eyes at last, turned her lovely face to Allison. The lilac of her hair was so familiar. “How are you?”

Allison’s heart jackhammered in her chest so hard it must have been shaking the bench, but she was Allison fucking Reynolds, and things were going to change anyway. “Get coffee with me?”

Renee blinked at her, eyes widening. And then a crooked smile grew across her face. "Absolutely."

Relief swooped through her, giddiness close on its heels. She took a deep breath and forged onward. “And—go to the formal with me?”

Renee flicked a hand up to wipe under her eye, and Allison had a moment of alarm before Renee laughed. “Sorry, I—I’m just very happy. Yes.” She sniffed. “I just thought—I was going to ask, but I didn’t know if it was too soon—after Seth—” She sniffed and giggled and she was so lovely that Allison twisted her hands together to stop from reaching out.

“It’s like you said the other day,” Allison murmured, as Renee reached out to untangle her hands and squeeze them. “He’ll always walk alongside me. But I’d—I’d really like it if you would too.”

****

It was a good thing she tuned out the outside world entirely during exy, or else the shit her mark was spewing at her would have induced her to actual violence.

Not that she could hear it. Not that she could hear it. _Not that she could hear it—_

"Hey," Neil called dangerously, "if you don't shut you mouth, you are going to learn exactly how I got my scars."

Allison actually stumbled, surprised laughter bursting out of her. Her mark shot back some retort, vitriol lacing his words, and it must have been bad because Dan jerked her head around from halfway down the court, and Neil was actually—he was actually _charging—_

“Oh, shit,” Allison breathed, and planted herself in his path, holding him back as he strained towards her mark—

“Fucking sickos,” snarled her mark, “freaks like you shouldn’t be let out in public—” and he followed it by verbiage so disgusting that she released Neil and leapt in alongside him. It took Dan and Matt and Aaron to pull them both off. They were both carded, and Allison stalked away snarling and boiling.

This was why, this was why even if she _was_ good enough there was no future for her in exy, because who would take on someone like her, who would bring all that hate down on themselves, who would _ever_ stick their neck out for her like Wymack would—

“Allison,” Neil called, released from Matt’s reprimanding. He hit his racquet against hers. “On the court, only exy matters.”

She took a deep breath and popped her helmet up to meet his eyes. He was right. Bigoted jackasses had been trying to ruin exy for her ever since she stepped on the field, and she hadn’t let them yet. She’d die before she let them take it from her. Die, or graduate.

“Fuck them up, pipsqueak,” she said. He gave her a salute and jogged away.

Before tugging her helmet down, she sought out Renee in goal. Renee slammed her racquet against the goalpost and raised a fist briefly in the air. Allison raised her fist in response and lowered her helmet. They reset for a penalty.

Her new mark said something, but she didn’t hear it. There was only the game. There was only Renee’s save sailing straight to her racquet. There was only _one-two-three-four-five—_

**  
**

“So,” Renee said, a high, pretty blush on her cheeks. “Um. I will pay?”

“Sure,” Allison agreed, stupidly nervous. “I’ll get next time.”

Renee grinned then, bright and happy. “I’d like that. Go get us a seat?”

Allison found them a window table while Renee bought the coffee. She knew Allison’s order by heart, as Allison knew Renee’s. They had, after all, been close friends for four years.

“What do we talk about?” Renee asked, sitting down and immediately fidgeting with her cross necklace. “On a date? Is it different from how we normally get coffee?” She giggled.

“I think it’s the same,” Allison says, “only we could possibly hold hands. Only if you want.”

Renee stuck out her hand at once. Allison tangled their fingers together, trying not to think about how large her hand was in relation to Renee’s. It was hard, until Renee started stroking her thumb over Allison’s knuckles. Then all she could think about was how lovely Renee’s hand felt.

“Good game yesterday,” Renee said, smiling. “I especially liked the bloody nose you gave number twelve.”

Allison grinned, taking a sip of her mocha. “Thanks. I’m a fan of the split lip Neil gave him. You were great."

Renee gave a small smile. “Thank you. You know, I have been thinking that I've never asked: why did you start playing exy?”

Allison mulled that over. “I tried out in high school. It was something new; I’d never heard of exy before. And when I was playing, it was just…perfect.” She struggled to capture the feeling in words. “I feel incredible when I play. Even though—” She hesitated, glancing up at Renee.

“Even though?”

Allison shrugged. “Forget it. I don’t want to alwasy turn everything into my trans shit."

Renee frowned and gripped her hand tighter. “Allison? Don’t ever say that to me again. If you think talking your experience is going to somehow scare me off, after we’ve known each other for _four years_ , I honestly do not know what to say.”

Allison opened and closed her mouth. “I—you’re right.”  
  
“I know. Tell me about exy.”

Smiling, Allison looked at their hands, intertwined. “You know how hard it is to be a woman in exy.” Renee nodded. “It’s a fucking hell. And people think they can use that as an excuse to—to prove I’m not a real woman. Like it somehow undoes everything else. That’s what my parents thought.”

“Is that why…” Renee paused to think. “Is that why you dress up? Not that you should not dress up, but….”

Allison nodded slowly. “I know I don’t have to a have a full face of makeup, dress and heels and hair and nails every day. But yes, that’s part of the reason I do it. So they can’t—” She took a deep breath. “So they can’t look at me and find one more reason to doubt me.”

They drank their coffee in silence for a moment. Allison experienced a sudden and deep regret of her vulnerability and focused very hard on not letting it turn into claws and teeth.

“The world putting you through all that,” Renee said slowly, “and you not letting any of it drive you away from the thing you love—I think that is extraordinary.”

Allison felt the claws retract. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, in case you were unaware, I think you’re extraordinary too.”

“I think that makes us a very good pair.” The light in Renee’s eyes could outshine the sun.

****

“Oh. You match my hair.”

Allison smoothed a hand down her dress, which Neil had been absolutely right about. “Do I?”

Renee’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Right now, I am trying very hard not to say something it is much too soon to say.”

Allison flipped her hair. “I have that affect on a lot of people.”

Renee laughed softly. She was ethereal in a white dress with layers of pale blue in the skirt. She held out her arm very formally, and Allison took it, entranced by the way her lilac nails looked against Renee’s pale skin.

“Last winter formal,” Renee murmured, as they walked down the hallway to meet the rest of the team.

“I’m not thinking about that,” Allison said.

“Oh, my mistake. Another winter formal.”

“Who do you think will crack first?” Allison wondered. “One of the wonder twins? Kevin?”

“I don’t know about cracking,” Renee mused, “but as far as first blood goes, my money is on Neil.”

Neil himself came into view, along with the rest of the team, in the co-opted locker room belonging to their host. He looked fabulous, if Allison said so herself, in the suit she’d bought him and a blue tie to match his eyes. Maybe she was imagining it, but the monster was staring at him a little more than usual.

Dan enveloped them both in a teary hug as soon as they entered. “You b-both look wonderful,” she said, sniffing. Matt came up to rub her shoulders.

“You look beautiful too,” Allison said, taking in calf-length purple dress, matched by Matt’s purple tie.

“Alright,” Wymack said, clapping his hands. “In we get, and please remember: the first person to start shit gets benched next game.”

“Yeah, right,” scoffed Kevin, and he led them to the court-cum-banquet-hall-dance-floor.

Of course there was shit. There was always shit and there would always be shit, just in different degrees. They were a team made of sticks of dynamite, and everyone around them was a lit match. But they were seated far away from Edgar Allen, who looked subdued and lost to a one, and Neil’s reputation was enough to quell some words before they were spoken, and Allison had her most potent weapon: the unrelenting bitch stare, which could take even the most cocksure of jackasses down. With Renee beside her, strong hand gripping her knee, and her team surrounding her, Seth’s ghost was as far away as it had ever been.

Renee laughed, and Allison glanced over at the perfect moment to see her eyes glittering under the stadium lights, her neck framed so beautifully by her dress, her joy suffusing the air around her, and she was very close to thinking something it was much too soon to be thinking.

Dinner ended and dancing began, and Wymack found her in the crowd. “Reynolds,” he said. “Can I borrow you?”

Allison looked at Renee with a raised eyebrow. “I’m going to ask Dan to dance,” she said, patting Allison’s elbow. “Find me after.”

“I will,” Allison said, and followed Wymack over to a corner of coaches in suits, not a single woman among them.

“Johnson,” Wymack grunted, beelining for a short man with a paisley tie. “This is Reynolds.” And he left her there.

Allison wasn’t raised a socialite for nothing. “Hello,” she said, shaking his hand firmly. “Coach Johnson, from Breckenridge?”

“That’s right,” said Johnson, shaking her hand firmly. “Allison Reynolds, defensive dealer. That was quite a play with your goalkeeper against Millport.”

“Thank you,” Allison said, a bit surprised. “It’s a maneuver we’ve used before, with varying results. It depends on shaking the mark quick enough.”

“You shake them quick,” Johnson said. He had to look up at her, with her natural height plus heels, but he didn’t look like uncomfortable. “You’re not the fastest on your team, that’s Josten for sure, but your maneuvers are quick.”

“Thank you,” Allison said, surprised. “Our captain pushes us on footwork in practice, and it’s always paid off.”

“Danielle Wilds,” Johnson said, nodding. “Real shame she’s not going pro. So few talented female players do so.”

“I’m sure you understand why,” Allison said, trying not to let an edge creep into her voice.

Johnson held up a calming hand. “That was not judgment. Exy has a lot of room to grow. But that’s not true for you, is it?”

Allison frowned. “Having room to grow?”

Johnson shook his head. “No, no. Not wanting to go pro. David said it wasn’t out of the question.”

Allison’s world tilted around her. She grasped at social niceties to steady herself. “It wouldn’t be out of the question,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. “Should there be a team willing to sign me.”

Johnson nodded thoughtfully. “Good to know, Reynolds. I may be a college coach, but I know some folks. I’ll pass along word of your footwork, what do you say?"

“I—that—that is—” _pull yourself together, Reynolds_ , “I would be honored. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. Now go enjoy the evening.”

Somehow, Allison floated her way back to Renee, who slid smoothly from Nicky’s arms and into hers. “Hello,” Renee said, looking up at her with sparkling eyes.

“Hi,” Allison breathed. “Is this real?”

“Hmm.” Renee pursed her lips, looking around them as they swayed together. Her hands were on Allison’s hips, her body only a few inches away. “I think so,” she said at last. They moved for a moment together, music thrumming through the air. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

Renee bit her lip. “Part of the reason I disliked Seth so much is because I fell for you freshman year. Even though I knew he was good to you, I was never convinced he deserved you.”

Allison laughed softly. “You’re such a bastard.”

“I suspect it will never leave me.” Renee tilted her head, and she was so beautiful and so terrible that Allison leaned down and kissed her.

Renee opened like a rosebud blooming, sweet and soft and fragrant. Her arms went around Allison’s back, Allison put one hand to her waist and one to her cheek and pulled her close, close, close. Renee made a soft noise and parted her lips. Allison slipped her tongue into her velvet mouth. This was not appropriate for a winter formal. Allison did not care.

Somewhere off to the side, Dan and Matt _whooped_. Allison pulled away, glanced over to see Neil grinning at her. Renee’s mouth pressed, mischievous, to the side of her neck, making her shudder.

And then a raven muttered something nasty, and Neil’s eyes turned icy, and Renee won the pool for first blood. The evening erupted into chaos. Allison cradled Renee close and kissed her again.

_Seth fucking Gordon, I hope you’re as happy as I am._

****

Loving Renee Walker was Allison’s new favorite thing in the world, besides playing exy.

_One-two-three-four-five-six-seven—_ that was how long Allison could hold her breath with Renee’s thighs around her head. It would have been longer if she didn’t laugh half the time, but she was so goddamn happy.

Renee touched her like Seth had touched her. Unafraid, unhesitant, uncritical. When Allison searched her face for disgust or disappointment there as nothing but joy. Renee’s hands on her body gave her a feeling almost, but not quite, like she felt on the field. _This is my body. These are my hands. Watch what they can do to you._

“You’re so good,” Renee murmured, kissing along Allison’s neck as Allison’s fingers moved inside her. “You’re so good, Allison, you’re so good—” She chanted it like a mantra, nails running down Allison’s chest, body lovely and lithe and moving atop her.

_I love you_ , Allison thought, _I love you I love you I love you._

After, Renee tugged Allison over to lay her head on her chest, running her fingers through her hair. Renee liked to hold her. It was a good match: Allison liked to be held.

How long had it been since Allison had felt so comfortable with another person? Comfortable enough to lie naked atop them and feel not an inch of discomfort?

“Allison?” Renee asked softly.

“Mhm?”

“Remember when we talked about plans for the future? After the first game?”

Something in Allison froze. “Yes.”

“I’m joining the Peace Corps.” Renee’s voice was small.

Allison stroked her hip, fuchsia nails on pale skin. “I know.”

“I—I am willing to be long-distance. But I understand if you do not want that. Everyone says it is impossible; I am willing to try, but it is a lot to ask, I know—”

“Renee,” Allison said, relief and sadness running through her body. She pressed her fingertips into Renee’s waist. “I’m willing to wait for you. To try.”

Renee sniffed. “Really?”

Allison shifted and pressed a kiss to Allison’s stomach, felt it jump under her lips. “Yes.” But uneasiness threaded through her. At the thought of Allison leaving. At the thought of being alone. But Allison loved Renee, even if she wouldn’t say it yet, and she wasn’t ready to give up their shot that quickly.

She focused on the feeling of Renee’s hand in her hair, and tried to put her worry to rest.

_Last chance, babe. Last chance to be brave. Can you do it?_

Allison stood, frozen clutching her bag strap, back to the rest of the locker room. It was always next time, next time, next time. Well, there was no more next time after this.

She took a deep breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth. _I'm doing this for me, Seth fucking Gordon, not for you._

Mechanically, she put her bag on the bench and yanked out her uniform, every sense hyperaware of the others in the locker room. Were they looking at her? Were they staring at her? Were the whispering about her? Their words flowed together into aggressive nonsense.

Hyacinth.

Renee set her bag beside Allison's, stripped off her shirt in one smooth and distracting movement, slipped a sports bra over her normal one and unlatched it with deft fingers, pulling it out from underneath. She didn't say anything to Allison. She just changed.

Okay. Okay. Okay. Allison pulled in her claws. She changed out, hyacinth enveloping her, Renee's warmth combating icy panic. And when she turned around, all attention was on Dan, who climbed onto the bench with a wobbly smile aimed at her.

Renee took her hand. She belonged here.

_One-two-three-four-five—_ the ball left her racquet, it rebounded perfectly into Dan’s catch, who passed to Kevin, who hurtled up the court—

Allison didn’t even need to watch him score.

Reset. The foxes lost possession. Her mark slipped her; she cursed, scrambling to catch up, but he fired on the goal—

And Andrew blocked with a lazy swing, sending the ball screaming downfield to Neil, who scored again—

Reset. Foxes’ possession. Dan-Kevin-Allison-Neil-Allison-Dan-Matt— _score_ —

Reset. Score. Reset. Score. Reset. Score. Over and over and over, the ball in her net, her feet on the ground, her team around her like fingers of the same hand, like a machine, harmony like nothing else had ever been and nothing else would ever be—

When the buzzer sounded, Renee reached her first, picking Allison up and spinning her around in a circle before the seniors piled on, shouting and screaming and sobbing all over each other. They had to shake hands but they didn’t care. There was only this:

Their perfect last game.

Leaving the field pulled at her cleats like molasses. Everyone seemed to feel the same, lingering just outside the door, breathing deep, trying to ingrain the smell of the court into their memories forever, the feel of their arms around each others’ shoulders, the slide of sweat under gear, the clench of racquet in hand.

Allison put a hand on Dan’s arm, and Dan looked over to her. “Captain,” Allison said with all the genuine emotion she could muster over the impending tragedy closing her throat, “you are such a fucking badass. This game? _You_ did this. You got us here.”

Dan had already been crying, and now she cried harder, throwing her arms over Allison’s shoulders. “I can’t believe I’ll never have this again.”

“You’ll find it again,” Allison told her. “Somewhere else. It’s in you.”

“I love you, Allison,” Dan sobbed. “I love all of you.”

In the locker room, the underclassmen, Wymack, Abby, and Betsy were waiting for them with balloons and cake and horrifyingly tacky senior gifts.

“Afterparty in the tower,” Nicky wailed in Allison’s ear. “We have— _hic_ —we have fondue!”

“Reynolds,” Wymack said, finding her in a moment alone, feeling the dizziness of teetering on the edge of uncertainty. “My office.”

As she passed through the team, light touches landed on her. Dan brushed her shoulder, Matt patted her arm, Nicky kissed her cheek, Renee squeezed her hand. How was it that she had become so loved without even noticing?

_Seth Gordon? If you’re still watching me, I hope you’re proud._

Wymack settled behind his desk, indicating the other seat for Allison. She sat, still in her exy gear, hair soaked in sweat and sticking to her neck, face free of makeup, nails chipped and body aching. But here with Wymack, it didn’t matter. Wymack would never see her as anything less than herself.

Wymack cleared his throat, pulled something from his desk, and put it in front of her. “Elle Ramirez faxed this over this morning. I didn’t want to psych you out before the game.”

“Coach?” Allison asked, world tilting on its axis.

“You know Ramirez, right?”

“Of course I know Ramirez,” Allison snapped, but Wymack didn’t take it personally. After so long, he knew her eye-clawing was only in self-defense.

Elle Ramirez, currently the sole woman and sole person of color coaching a US pro exy team. The Shrikes.

“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” Allison said, placing trembling fingers on the edge of the stack of papers. She couldn’t look down. She couldn’t look down and be disappointed.

“Allison Reynolds,” Wymack said, leaning forward. “You listen to me. On a team of batshit prodigies, no one thinks they’re good enough. You’ve got a skewed perspective. You a _re_ good enough. And there _are_ more people out there willing to have your goddamn back. Now take a look at that contract before I put it in the shredder.”

_Aw, babe, don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry._

Wymack handed her a tissue, and she pressed it to her eyes. _Then cry, you stupid, wonderful piece of shit. This is for me, Seth Gordon._

****

She stumbled out of Wymack’s office with a copy of the contract curled tightly in her hand, five tissues balled in the other. She was the least put together she had ever been around her teammates, and she didn’t give one single shit. If anyone had anything to say, she would go for their eyes, if Neil didn’t get there first.

“Allison?” Matt called, looking up from his piece of cake. The team had migrated to their assigned seating, typical, but Allison supposed she couldn’t begrudge them one more night of certainty.

“What’s wrong?” Dan demanded, half-rising from her seat.

“I’m—” Allison looked around at them all, from Renee looking at her with adoration in her eyes to the monster’s cool regard. In that moment, no matter how she would feel tomorrow, they were all her family. “I’m fucking signing with the Shrikes.”

There was a moment of utter, shocked silence. And then Dan _erupted_. “WHAT!” she screamed, launching herself forward. “ALLISON! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“You’re going _pro?_ ” Matt roared, close on Dan’s heels. “Since _when?”_

“Why didn’t you _tell_ any of us?” Nicky wailed, elbowing everyone out of the way.

Allison was flattened to the floor, flinging her contract out to the side at the last moment. Renee took it carefully from her, smiling like a summer day. “You deserve this,” she said.

****

Allison felt light as air. In the living room and across various bedrooms, most of the team was passed out. Normally, Allison would have been too. Except she had been too busy kissing Renee to drink much last night. Her neck and shoulders were speckled with love bites, her body ached from their last, incredible game, and also from a secondary workout with Renee, and she had stuck her contract in the pocket of her lacy dressing gown, so that she could pull it out and make sure it was real every time she started to doubt.

The noises of her family filtered into the kitchen. Grumbling, snoring, shifting. She didn’t bother being quiet as she pulled ingredients from the cupboards—either they would wake or they wouldn’t.

She whipped up pancake batter quickly, pouring the first one onto the pan as two hands came around her stomach, a kiss pressed against the back of her neck. “Still so proud of you,” murmured Renee.

Allison turned, leaning back against the counter so Renee could tip herself against her, aiming a dreamy smile upwards. Her pastel hair was tangled, her cheek had pillow-lines imprinted onto hit. When Allison kissed her, she tasted like morning breath.

“Go sit down,” Allison said. “I’m making pancakes.”

Renee sat at the kitchen table, chin on her arms as she watched Allison cook. When a few pancakes were ready, Allison brought them over with syrup and sat across from Renee.

“I love you,” Renee mumbled, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk with pancake.

“I love you, too,” Allison said, electricity lighting up her heart. It probably wasn’t too early to say it anymore. “Renee?”

“Hm?”

Allison took a deep breath. “Will you hear me out for a moment?”

Renee swallowed her pancakes. “Of course.”

Allison ran her thumb over the edge of her contract in her pocket and said what she’d been practicing all morning. “Will you go with me? To Santa Fe. I know you want to do good in the world—but there are ways to do good _here_. You don’t have to leave to find them. I just—I love you so much, and I don’t want you to leave. I want you to walk alongside me. And if you go, I understand, I will wait for you like I said. But…please, think about it?”

Renee stared at her, eyes wide, and then her bottom lip started to tremble. Worried, Allison reached across the table for her hand. Renee took it instantly, and broke into a teary smile. “Allison, I—I have only been looking for a reason to stay.”

Allison laughed in relief, tears on the tail end. She still didn’t like crying, but sometimes the situation called for it. “Really?”

Renee nodded and leaned forward, tracing Allison’s cheek. “Really. I love you, Allison fucking Reynolds.”

Allison kissed her. The world was lilac and fuchsia and turquoise and cerulean. How long could she hold her breath? How fast could she run towards the future?

_One-two-three-four-five—  
_


End file.
